Elintézetlen: Unfinished Business: Affinity
by Decidedly Average
Summary: "She needed you. Again. And you were too busy to care. Again. And now she could be dead.They could both be dead." - They thought they knew what their relationship had become, and accepted it. But having suffered a tragedy the dynamics between them are set to change in unimaginable ways. Follow on from 'Abyss', rated M for upsetting themes.
1. Blur

**Hello chaps! Welcome to story three! I hope you are all still enjoying the series and it's not too long winded or rambly! If you are enjoying, or have any comments that you'd like to make, please do review, or send me a wee message, I love silent witness discussions and no one in my real world are as obsessed as I am.**

**The themes in this story I should warn you, are very difficult and quite upsetting, especially at the beginning. I've tried to be as sensitive and tasteful as possible, I have no idea what it's like to go through something like that and I hope I never do. I just hope I've done it justice.**

**Love, as always xxx**

* * *

_Nikki will be okay._**  
**

**September 4****th**** – 7.00pm**

It all happened in a bit of a blur really.

Evidence on a victims coat had led you to a breakthrough of a long and mentally draining case.

A house to be exact.

Leo had told you. He had told you to leave it. But you couldn't.

Not now you knew the answers were out there.

Waiting to be found.

You had packed up. As if to go home. You could feel Leo's eyes on you all the way to the car. He worries. He knows what you're like. He's right to worry.

It was only when you landed with a soft thud into the driver's seat that you felt it.

Exhaustion.

Sheer, agonizing exhaustion.

Your stomach was heavy now and your back was beginning to hurt and you could feel your eyes drooping as the car heated up. Pretty soon you would have to start thinking about baby things. Nappies, clothes, cots…

_Christ where do you start?_

You'd have to do all this alone. That's the most daunting part. And you're always so, so _tired._ What you would have given to sleep right now…

And what wouldn't you give to have someone to rub your aching back after a long day of rushing around, someone to sit you down, prop your feet up, pass you a gaviscon. Someone to gently make love to you to relieve some of the stress, the _pressure._

You shook it off. Told yourself it would be over soon enough. Once you had the answers. Then you could rest, stop focussing on work and start preparing yourself for a more 'all-consuming' job ahead of you.

Why, _why_ did you shake it off?

* * *

The house is in darkness. Deserted long ago it seems. The door handle is cold against your withered hands but the door opens under your touch with relative ease. The silence of the hall is almost astonishing and for a moment or two you just allow yourself to breathe. Be at peace. There is a small movement in your stomach and you place your hand there, rubbing, as if quelling hunger. You're guilty of that. Forgetting that there is a baby there. A tiny human. Harry was always so much more engrossed in the sheer magnificence of it, a look of complete amazement on his face as he holds his hand gingerly over the movement under your skin. You always remained stoic. Emotionless, reluctant to share any intimacy with him, in doing so, occasionally detaching yourself from the magic of it all. Perhaps you will live to regret that.

You are searching the house now. You find a small room behind a damp kitchen. It contains a modern computer, out of place in the otherwise abandoned abode. Intrigued, you close in. You bend over the chair to switch it on.

It all happened in a bit of a blur really.

You see it in the worst possible place; the corner of your eye, where imagination and reality almost seem to merge into one. Where _horror_ and truth become the same. Your head snaps round to take it in. In the shadows there is a figure.

A figure that then appears to panic. A figure that runs at you with full force. Pushes the chair into you, causing you to fall.

And then they are gone, they take the laptop computer and are gone.

Then you hear screaming.

_Screaming._

It takes you a while to realise it's _you_.

The pain is almost unbearable as you push the chair off and attempt to stand. You fall again, sliding on something…

Blood.

Pints and pints of blood.

_Your_ blood.

Now you're screaming again. But not in pain. The pain doesn't matter. All that matters is your baby and its safety, and the fact that you are completely alone.

In an instant, you forget everything you were taught at med school.

With bloodied shaking hands you do the only thing you can think to do.

_You call him._

Harry.

You call him, and call him and call again. Nothing. He has forgotten you. He has moved on. To something new. To someone new. But sometimes you were so sure, when your eyes meet his as he feels your baby move, _his _baby move…

But he's not here. Not anymore. To save you. No one is here. You scream and you cry and you emit sounds so completely horrific they could only be the cries of a mother scared for the life of her child.

The bleeding continues.

You manage to dial for an ambulance before the world disappears. The agony disappears.

_It all happened in a bit of a blur really._


	2. You, Appearing

**Hi again! Here's the next one! For those of you who reviewed the last chapter, thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the angst...I don't seem to be much good at writing anything else! **

**For any of you who are interested, the song I had in my head when I wrote this (and the song its named after) is 'You Appearing' by M83 _really_ worth a listen, it's really beautiful, in a tragic sort of way, please check it out and let me know what you think, if you think it works with the chapter etc.**

**The next couple of chapters won't be in a linear order, just a warning, hope it's not too confusing!**

**Enjoy...though I'm not sure that's the right word...**

* * *

**September 4****th**** – Midnight.**

Helpless, you had willingly allowed everything to fade into nothing.

Until now.

You wake to the sound of machines, bleeping, whirring, ticking, and the strong smell of disinfectant. You can only just bare to open your eyes against the dazzling bright light that greets you. Slowly, they become accustomed.

For a moment, you wonder if you are dreaming; everything seems too white, the walls, the bed, your legs, thin and pale; sticking out of the other end of the gown you are wearing.

Yes, this is very like some sort of dream...

Or perhaps _nightmare_.

Because suddenly, you remember what brought you to be here.

Your sudden, primal shriek alerts a passing nurse who rushes to your side to soothe you. It doesn't work and you struggle against her, writhing, hitting out, _crying _out. You are screaming so loudly you can't hear the nurse as she speaks.

Hysterical, you react only on what you know…

And what you know, is what you feel…or _cannot_ feel…

And you most certainly cannot feel a baby inside of you.

You can't breathe, you can't see, all rational thought has vanished.

Someone has taken your baby, and all you can do is scream, scream for help, for someone, anyone to wake you up from this nightmare, this hell.

Leo.

Janet.

Anne.

Harry.

_Harry._

You at first don't see who it is that then comes down on you, with a strength and authority the nurse didn't have, and succeeds in holding you still. You continue to scream and kick out, something, _anything _to get them off you. You have to find your baby. You have to –

"_Nikki! Stop!"_

Harry's voice booms out above all others, even your own, and you feel his hands around your wrists, at either side of your head and you do as you're told. For a moment, you lie still, breathing heavy, laboured breaths, each one hurting your heart more than the last.

Then, you cry.

You don't have the energy to do much else.

You cry so hard your head begins to ache, and it takes him to put his arms tightly around you, holding you together, to quell your shaking.

You don't think you've cried this hard since the death of your mother. During the collapse of your marriage, for the sake of your own sanity, you had kept it together. Now all of these bottled up emotions were coming to the surface, hastily, like froth in a boiling pan.

It is almost ironic that he is the one to comfort you.

Harry pulls you closer and you bunch his shirt into your fists, tightly, unsure whether you're trying to hurt him, or just clinging on for dear life. You are gasping, heaving with sobs and you can only just get the words out.

"_Harry, Harry, the baby. Someone's stolen our baby, Harry."_

You look up at him, still holding on, and through the haze of tears you can see that the only colour in his face is the swollen, red-rims around his soulless eyes. You had looked to him then for solace, comfort, reassurance. All you found was fear, shock, an abundance of unspoken words which you are certain you do not want him to speak. Reaching up with a solitary, shaking finger, you trace a tear down the length of his face and he swallows hard, looking straight back at you.

"_It's okay. It'll be okay."_

You're not sure you believe him, his words are almost emotionless, through shock, and he has never sounded less reassuring. Gazing into his eyes is like struggling to see the bottom of a murky, mottled swamp; dark and clouded. No. You don't believe him.

But you trust him.

You trust what he is telling you, although you know he is trying to reassure himself as much as he is comforting you.

"_It'll all be okay…"_

With his nod, you – too tired to ask any more – fall back into his arms and cry quietly. You can't see or hear him, but you just sense that he is crying too.

When Leo Dalton, Janet Mander and Anne Cunningham finally make their way along the long, grey corridor of the ward to your room, they see a sight to break their hearts all over again.

Harry perched on the hospital bed, holding you, rocking you, as you drift in and out of consciousness, his tears landing in your hair. He sees them, and slowly, wordlessly shakes his head.

They leave, respectfully, without a word.


	3. The Lightening Strike

**Next one!...Not much else to say really! Just please keep reading, review if you have a minute to spare, and enjoy.**

**The song for this one is part of the three songs 'The Lightening Strike' by Snow Patrol, it's the first one that is called 'What if the storm ends?' and it's beautiful. God I don't think I could write anything if I didn't have music. So yeah, check it out on youtube! xx**

"_What if this storm ends,_

_And I don't see you,_

_As you are now._

_Ever again?"_

**September 4****th**** – 9.14pm**

Suddenly, your whole body is cold.

"_I have to make a call." You tell her, standing fast from the table._

"_To who?" She's annoyed already. You can see that. This was supposed to be your night. Together. Just the two of you._

_There is one simple reason. A small one. But it's enough to make you call off anything. With anyone._

"_Nikki. Nikki tried to call me."_

_That's it._

"_Well surely there's someone else she can call."_

"_She rang 15 times, Em."_

"_Well if she rings again, you can answer it, but just leave it, yeah."_

"_I'll only be a minute."_

"_I'm sick of this, Harry. She snaps her fingers and you go running. Every fucking time. I'm sick of playing second fiddle to her and you, and your messed up relationship!"_

You shut the door on her screaming, and redial.

"_Harry?"_

Suddenly, your whole body is cold.

"_Leo?"_

**9.45pm**

You're running now. Faster than you've ever ran before. Your heart is thundering in your chest, tears creating a mist over your eyes so you can barely see. You skid to a halt at the signs, breathing loud, heavy, frustrated when none of the writing seems to make sense.

You run again, through corridors, swinging doors, past concerned looking doctors, barely aware patients. You're shaking.

This is the worst night of your life.

Because you've suddenly realised how badly you've fucked things up. She needed you. Again. And you were too busy to care. Again.

And now she could be dead.

They could both be dead.

You're not sure how, but finally you find a room, and they're all there.

Janet.

Leo.

Even your Mother.

_She's _not there.

"_Where is she?"_

Your Mother is crying, staring at the wall behind you. She doesn't move. It is Leo and Janet who move first, together, as if they'd rehearsed it. So distant now, yet so in sync. Janet holds you up with gentle hands on your arm. Leo holds your shoulders and looks you straight in the eye. You look back, willing him not to give you bad news.

"_She's in intensive care, Harry. It's touch and go. The guy ran. I've just spoken to the DCI, they haven't got him yet, but they think they've spotted him heading towards Suffolk."_

You want to punch something, but can't help but notice what Leo hasn't mentioned. The thought of why that might be feels like a lightning bolt to the heart and is equally as painful. When you speak, it's weak, plaintive, barely above a whisper.

"_What about my baby?"_

Glances are exchanged around the room. It is Leo who speaks again.

"_Nikki was hit with force. It brought on premature labour. Other than that, we don't know."_

You swallow hard. You've been counting the weeks, days, how could it possibly be okay? There is a knock and a doctor enters. Your Mother stands as he enters. His skin is mottled, he looks anxious, rattled.

"_Any news?"_

"_Dr Cunningham I presume. Arthur Wade." _He introduces himself warmly, his firm handshake a totem for your humid, shaking hand. _"Your wife is responding well, we expect her to regain consciousness in the next few hours all being well."_ He pauses, moving slightly closer into the group. _"We had no choice but to deliver your baby son at 28 weeks."_

Your heart skips a beat.

"_A little boy?"_

"_A very strong little boy. He's been taken up to the neonatal unit for tests on his organs."_

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Having prepared yourself for the worst, you're not sure you believe what you're hearing.

"_He's…he's okay?"_

One nod. There is an audible sigh of relief and your Mother clasps your hand so tight in her own you think it may break.

"_Though I must stress that he is very premature and his chances right now are very slim. You must prepare yourselves for the worst."_

Your Mother finally speaks.

"_Can we see him?"_

"_I'm afraid I will let you know when our tests are done and then he will be open for visits."_

"_Can I be with my Wife?" _She must have been so scared. So terrified. You want to be the one to soothe her. To explain. It's the very least you owe her now.

* * *

You're barely half way to the room when you hear her cries. You're at her side in seconds, pulling her to you. She hits out, screaming hysterically. Eventually, as you knew they would, her screams melt into sobs and she clings to you.

There is no point explaining yet, she won't hear you. All you can do is hold her and cry with her until she calms down. You know what she's feeling; having only minutes before been unsure whether your child was alive or dead.

As you hold your estranged, distraught wife, tight to your chest, you wonder what you did to deserve all of this. Perhaps it's you that causes it all. A proverbial hurricane reaping havoc and destruction wherever you go, perhaps you are your own worst enemy.

Or perhaps lightening does strike in the same place twice.


	4. A Thousand Eyes

**No idea what this chapter is. It wasn't pre-written, I just added it in last minute as I thought something was missing. I hope it's not too shit!**

**I was listening to 'Possibility' by Lykke Li while I wrote this, it's not mentioned in the chapter, just sets the mood I wanted :)**

**The quote is from 'A series of unfortunate events' by the glorious Lemony Snicket, book the 13th. I think Kit Snicket is my favourite fictional character ever...apart from Harry and Nikki and Leo obvs.**

**Thank you all for the reviews, please leave me a wee comment if you're enjoying it!**

**Don't own anything, no songs, no quotes, no characters...except baby...he's all mine!**

**xxx**

* * *

Slowly, but surely, she regains composure.

Slowly, but surely, she pieces her life back together.

And learns how to breathe again.

Though of course the first thing she wants to do is to see him. Harry refuses, clamming up and becoming withdrawn and quiet and she can't understand how he can live and breathe before seeing with his own eyes that this little part of them, detached from their own bodies, is safe.

It is Leo in the end that takes her up, leaning gently on the back of the wheelchair as if about to ask her something, before thinking better of it and ringing the buzzer instead.

She knows him well. She knows he was going to ask her if she _really _thought this was a good idea. He would be so very small, it might be a shock. She also knows that then he would have reminded himself that this is _her_ child.

And there is a possibility that he might not survive.

And if he didn't, and if she hadn't seen him, she would never forgive herself.

When they go in, the room is dark, foreboding , almost like stepping into another planet, but in a sense it is almost calming. It softens the blow when she finally sees him - with a body no bigger than Leo's hand - the cocoon of tubes and wires, intertwining and connecting with his skin making the instinctual love she instantly feels for him seem almost _unnatural. _He shouldn't be there, surrounded by strangers, chemicals, synthetic matter; he should be in her arms. He should be with her. Just him, her and their skin, together.

It is heart breaking to know that with just touching him, she would be at risk of breaking or damaging him.

She already feels this inexplicable connection to him, this little being in front of her, and the guilt overwhelms her.

She rests clammy palms on the side of the incubator, looking in, spell bound.

He is everything.

A glimmer of hope in a long series of unfortunate events.

Then there are hands on her shoulders, shaking slightly. She knows it's him without looking. Harry. At last.

She speaks for the first time since she first woke, her voice quiet and broken, still recovering from the screams.

"_The night has a thousand eyes, and the day but one; yet the light of the bright world dies with the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, and the heart but one: yet the light of a whole life dies when love is done.__"_

Having taken in the sight of his tiny child before him, he finally turns his attention to her. Exasperated. _Has she ever said anything that isn't cryptic?_

"_What?"_

"_From the final book of a series I once read. Kit Snicket was my favourite character. I think I understand her, now."_

He's seen her at her dazzling best and her devastating worst, but he doesn't think he has ever seen her look as broken as she does now. Not even as she stood in Janet Mander's hallway all those months ago. His hands are still on her shoulders, and he squeezes lightly.

"_Kit…I like that."_


	5. The Other 12 Hours

**Hi again!**

**I'm trying hard to keep these updates regular, I've just moved back to uni and I'm not very good at all this stuff so for the first couple of weeks I go through a bit of a mini breakdown! **

**So here's my attempt at a little glimmer of hope to cheer us all up!**

**A little review would really make me feel less homesick ;) xxx**

* * *

The weeks that follow all gel into each other.

Hours, feel like days.

Days, feel like months.

It is only the rising and falling of the sun that determines your actions, especially after Nikki is discharged.

You've never seen her as distraught as she has been these past weeks. Her constant crying does nothing for your guilt, which eats away at you, like larvae in a rotting corpse. Your son doesn't even look like a baby; through the nest of wires covering him you can barely see his transparent skin. He has been diagnosed with atrial septal defect to add to his long list of problems, and although Leo and the Neonatal doctors reiterate over and over that is just coincidence and is not hereditary it makes you feel even worse. Your wife is a wreck; when she's not crying she sits in silence, not eating, emotionless. Your son, barely yet human is fighting alone for his life, and there is nothing you can do about any of it.

She recovers and they discharge her and she cries for her baby all the way back to the house. After her release you almost find it impossible to go back into the hospital. To see_ him_, so small and helpless, covered in machines makes _you_ want to cry too. Because all of it is your fault. And there is nothing you can do to fix it.

Consequently your days are split into two halves. 12 hours (the majority daylight) are spent at the lab, working on anything and everything you can find. You make your way through stacks of paper work; your own and Nikki's. The lab however, is the last thing on her mind. At the crack of dawn she leaves for the hospital and stays there all day. The other 12 hours (the majority, darkness) are spent at your marital home, asleep. Something both of you seem to be doing a lot of. It was the shock, you assume, that has made you both so tired and night after night you find yourself holding her as tightly as she is holding you and falling asleep. And neither of you let go. All night. It's not a reconciliation by any means. It's not romantic in any way. More like desperation than anything else. You've suffered something together, something that only the two of you can understand, and so you deal with it together.

It could never last that way of course. Leo is already concerned about the amount of time you spend at the lab and often you feel him watching you through his office window as you work. Sometimes he pops his head out and asks a question, his voice is gentler than it's been for a while, that was always Leo, quiet, tactful.

"_How's Kit?"_

"_Uh, the same I think."_

"_When did you last see him, Harry?"_

"_What's the point, Leo? What can I do? What can I possibly do?"_

You know this is the start. He's on your back and soon enough he'll speak to Nikki and she will be too. You know for a fact that he has seen more of your son than you have, but what does it matter? Staring longingly like Nikki through a plastic case and crying occasionally isn't going to make things any better.

Sometimes you feel hostile towards her. You hate how you need her, you hate how she mopes around, tearful and quiet, and it's bubbling under, waiting to explode. You can't comprehend what the two of you do in those other 12 hours. The stalemate continues until Hallows eve, the only Hallows eve since your childhood when you've ever been properly scared out of your wits. Late October. She should have been 8 months pregnant.

For some reason you both decide to break the 12 hour shift routine and you find her in the kitchen when you come in at four in the afternoon and almost drop your briefcase.

"_I thought you'd be at the hospital."_

"_I was."_

Despite being married, despite having slept in the same bed every single night for almost 2 months, a conversation never goes beyond this. You don't have anything to say to one another. Nothing productive at least. All you know is that to sleep soundly at night, you need each other. You know what would happen if it did, but you push it anyway.

"_Well. I've finished for the day. I just came back to get something to eat, but I guess I'll go back in, just for something to do."_

"_How about you go and see your son, Harry?"_

A confrontation. Everything about her is burning you today, angering you, her eyes are like lasers stinging your own, and her voice is like standing on hot coals, making you fidgety, agitated. You won't, you can't talk about this.

"_And what good would I be there?"_

"_Why do you have to be any use? For god's sake Harry, just sit with him, be with him!"_

"_What? Like you do? Sit about and 'wish' him better? No thanks!"_

"_That's so typical of you isn't it? Everything has to go Harry's way or you're not interested! It's bloody pathetic! At some point you're going to have to step up and be a Dad whether you like it or not!"_

Her neck is straining and tears are collecting in her eyes, her voice is breaking and her face and neck are flushed red, you don't think you've ever seen her so angry.

"_If it wasn't for you and your stupidity, maybe he wouldn't even be in there!"_

There. You said it. What both of you have been thinking all along. Despite being estranged, the two of you had one emotional connection; your son and the fact that no matter how desperate or angry either of you got, you would never, never blame the other for what has happened. Sometimes it is that treaty, that unspoken rule between you that makes you hold her so tightly and protectively at night.

And now you've ruined it.

Slowly, silently, she becomes herself again, or more like herself. Only she looks like her whole world has just fallen apart around her. You know that unspoken thought has been the main source of her tears and sorrow, and it was a cheap shot to bring it to life, to get her to back off. You know fine well she feels guilty enough as it is.

It works though, and now she is silent.

Suddenly, out of the blue, she bursts into shaking sobs, collapsing to the floor, hands stifling her broken hearted gasps. God you're sick and tired of her crying.

"_I'm fucking done with this, Niks"_

And you leave her crying on the floor. You slam the front door; get in the car and leave.

If only you'd stayed a few moments longer, you would have heard the phone ring, saw Nikki answer it with shaking hands and voice,

And watched her world crumble that little bit further as the phone drops from her hands.

* * *

Since Kit was born, you have barely looked at your phone, all you know is that each time you glance, there is yet another message from Emma. Since you wordlessly left her house after the incident you haven't had any contact. Only angry texts and voicemails on her part. You're not interested. For that reason, your phone was off.

You work in silence, starting on some of Leo's toxicology reports.

At 10pm, your desk phone rings.

"_Pathology."_

"_Harry Cunningham?"_

* * *

You've felt it since before he was born. That overwhelming surge of love and connection with your son. But never like this.

On the news of his sudden deterioration you can barely breathe and nothing else seems to matter. You don't care about how you'll feel when you see him, nor about speed limits and road signs or damned hospital parking. You have to be with him.

You're his Dad.

Again, you find yourself having burst into a small white room, grey seats on one wall, nothing on the other. Barely filling one seat is Nikki, staring blankly at the wall ahead of her. She is alone. Gingerly, you sit two seats away from her and attempt to gauge her expression.

She is still waiting.

What for, you're not sure.

It's the first time since before everything, since before the Anka Majewski case, that you have really seen her. You've looked at her, yes. But not actually _seen_ her. You remember her the day you met her;

"_It appears she is who she says she is."_

"_I should hope so…"_

"_I've often wondered!"_

Young and energetic and sparkling. So very alive.

_Fascinating. Bonkers._

And you then remember her the first time you made love. Mesmerising and flushed and happy and beautiful.

She still is beautiful, but in such a sad way. Her eyes are sunken, no shine unless she's crying. Around them, is coloured red from where she has rubbed away her own tears, and grey, through worry and restless sleep. Her skin is as white as the walls around her and she is almost skeletal, as if she would break if you touched her. You can't help but feel you did this to her. You took the feisty, bouncy, beautiful woman you fell in love with, and tore her to pieces. Her eyes never leave the wall at the other side of the room.

"_Are you going to leave me?"_

Her words should confuse you. You're not together. You haven't been for a very long time. Officially, neither of you belong to the other. Surely you can't leave someone you've already left.

Or perhaps some people have an affinity.

Because you know exactly what to say in reply before even thinking. Although, your reply is in the same fashion as her question; monotone, emotionless.

"_Of course not, I love you, why on earth would I leave you?"_

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her turn to look at you, shocked. You remain stoney-faced, staring at the white wall in front of you.

* * *

When, finally the nurse comes in, you both stand quickly, whether it is through shock, fear or enthusiasm, you don't know, but automatically your hand finds hers and grips it, tight.

"_He's stable."_

Your hear Nikki's sigh of relief beside you, but you keep your eyes wide, waiting for more, for the 'but'.

"_That's a strong little boy you've got, he's come back fighting, you should be very proud of this little man. Would you like to see him?"_

Nikki goes in first, almost dragging you by the hand towards the incubator. You peer in as they lift the lid and tell Nikki to sit in the chair. He's red. And smaller than your hand, but undeniably a baby now. Your baby.

Placing a blanket on her knee, they lift him gently from his plastic home and place him in his mother's arms. You watch her face and for the first time in months, she smiles. That complete and blissful, watery smile that you remember. She beams at you and beckons you closer and you kneel at her side, your eyes never leaving him. The nurses back away, giving you time. You both sit, genuine smiles on your faces as your discover your child. Your eyes leave him for a second, to watch her, gazing at him with such love and awe and amazement that –despite everything – you feel as if you may burst.

"_Mummy's got you. Mummy's got you, darling and I promise you'll be okay now. I'm here now."_

He's there. Despite the wires and the problems and the constrictions, he is there, in her arms and he's alive. You finally feel like a parent, it all feels real. You think you'll remember this feeling until the day you die.

"_Look, Harry."_

She whispers and points to the dusting of thick dark hair on his head and your eyes move from Mother to Son and you suddenly can't contain anything anymore.

She flinches when you reach out and tuck a strand of golden hair behind her ears and place your hand on hers around your son. She appears to make a conscious effort not to look at you, instead staring wide eyed at your touching hands.

"_I've let you down, Nikki. I've let you down so badly. And I've let him down. And I know, I can't go back, and I know I can't fix it but I'll make it up to you, forever. I promise. I promise both of you. I'm going to be the best Dad on the planet and I know that I've been a terrible friend and an even worse husband but I need you to know that no one will ever love you like I do. Not ever."_

She doesn't speak, but your hand is now gently wiping away the tears that are falling freely down her cheeks. You stop, because you know you're making her hurt. You know she wants to believe you. You also know that right now, she doesn't.

And it'll take much more than words to repair the damage you've done.


	6. Tartar Sauce

**Hi everyone!**_  
_

**Just a little ask, if you haven't seen already, a missing chapter has been added to Abyss, A Fool's Decision. I'd forgotten about it and it'll probably make everything make a little bit more sense! Sorry, I'm a mess!**

**Anyway, because you're all great and lovely and fantastic, here is some Mr and Mrs C happy snuggly flashback time!**

**Please review if you get a chance! I'm back at uni so my confidence is shattered!**

**Thanks everyone! xx**

* * *

_Af-fin-i-ty. Noun. _

_1. a natural liking for or attraction to a person, thing, idea etc._

_2. relationship by marriage or by ties other than those of blood._

* * *

A few big changes occur after the night spent at the hospital with Kit and Nikki.

Your first night as a family.

However things don't quite change in the way you hoped they would.

The first thing that happens is Nikki tells you she wants to be on her own. She doesn't want you to come back with her. So you go back to the flat, she goes back to the house. You feel almost cheated, though you have no right to. You poured your heart out to her that night and the very next morning you went out and bought paints and furniture and arrived at her door, proposing to start work on his nursery. And yet she is more aloof than ever. Perhaps even more so. Still spending her days in the hospital, but now the other 12 hours she spends alone.

The second thing that changes is the bond you have with your son. Your other 12 hours are now spent with him, sometimes for the entire night. You found that now you couldn't bear to think of him alone.

On this particular night you are later in than normal, but the nurses know you and they let you in anyway and you head straight for him.

"_Daddy's here. No bad dreams tonight."_

You are so enthralled with the tiny body that you fail to notice the equally frail woman lying on the sofa behind you in the room.

"_My Grandmother used to do that."_

You jump slightly at the sound of her voice and turn to find Nikki lying there, curled up and looking tired, staring behind you towards the incubator.

"_When she got really old, her lungs seemed to move her whole body, as if it was a chore just to breathe."_

Looking back at your son you understand her completely. His movements seem almost mechanical, his chest fluctuates in a steady rhythm. It's obvious that he's trying, fighting, but struggling also. It's upsetting to watch. Soul destroying almost. You are his parents and you can't make it any better. You can tell Nikki has been crying and that she has been here all day. Her voice is croaky and faint. She looks tired and as if she has completely given up. On hope, on love, on everything.

"_Do you honestly think he can get through this?"_

"_Of course he can. He's a Cunningham."_

You share a tired smile and you settle your gaze back to him. Opening the door of the incubator, slowly, gently you reach in, touching a tiny hand with your finger. His skin is so soft, so thin, so brand new that you can barely feel him under your coarse touch.

"_Do you remember it?"_

You raise your head to look at her only for a moment. She hasn't moved.

"_Remember what?"_

"_The night we…"_

She stops dead, as if thinking better of her words, she frowns as if in some sort of pain and you almost ask her if she's okay, before she continues.

"…_made him."_

You squeeze your eyes shut and try and think back and after a few moments you decide there is only one occasion it could have been.

"_It was the tartar sauce night, wasn't it?"_

Her smile gives you your answer.

* * *

"_I thought you were going to buy it?"_

"_You said you would!"_

"_Well I'm not eating this shit without it."_

"_You need to stop acting like a spoilt child, this took bloody ages!"_

_She'd been at a fitness to plead hearing for the majority of the day and you'd decided you'd be thoughtful and have dinner cooked for her when she got in. But of course, as usual it just wasn't good enough._

"_Fine!"_

_You snatch the plate from her and throw the whole thing in the bin. Bored of your spontaneous tempers she tuts loudly._

"_Who's the child now?"_

_After 7 years of friendship and 4 months of marriage she knows how to push your buttons. Perhaps that's what makes the arguments so fiery always. You'd always argued badly, and that didn't stop when you started having sex like you thought it might. You just assumed it would ease the tension. You just feel sorry for your neighbours._

_For the loud arguments that is…not the sex…_

_Well, actually…_

"_RIGHT. I'M GOING TO GET CHIPS. YOU CAN FEED YOURSELF." You know she won't, she's a terrible cook._

"_That's right you just run away, as per usual! Leave me to pick up the pieces!"_

_Ironically, you hear a plate smash against the front door from the inside seconds after you've shut it._

_You drive about for a while and let yourself calm down, with the full intention of leaving a post-it note with lots of kisses on it on the kettle for when she gets up in the morning, if she hasn't beaten you to it. You don't expect her to be awake, yet when you open the door she's sitting on the stairs in a nightie, looking very sorry for herself. You fold your arms in mock disapproval. The loving smile on your face gives you away, though. _

"_Sorry for being a brat."_

"_Ditto."_

"_Doesn't count."_

_You roll your eyes and move towards the stairs as she stands up on the first one, so she's slightly taller than you. Sometimes you forget how small she is without those ridiculously high heels._

_Her arms loop around your neck and she presses her parted lips to yours and kisses you slowly._

"_Sorry too." You whisper against her lips and feel her smile._

"_That doesn't mean you've won, Mrs C."_

"_You never let me win."_

_You kiss her again, deeper this time, and your hands run down her back to end their quest on her bare thighs. Her skin is always so soft, you think, and it's almost a comfort to touch her._

_Your lips never leaving each other's, you move your arm round and in one graceful movement, she kicks her legs up and you catch them, lifting her into your arms and ascending the stairs._

_She's giggling as you lay her on the bed and you think it's probably the nicest sound you've ever heard. _

_Before long the light hearted atmosphere is left behind and urgency takes over. Having removed your clothes she lifts her arms and you pull the nightie over her head in a swift, practiced movement and allow it to float to the bedroom floor. She always gets impatient at this point and you make a game of teasing her, but she takes your hand firmly in her own and places it there. There. Showing you where to touch her, though you know where all those places are already. You've known from the start and you remember how she was shocked at how fully you could satisfy her on that very first time. She liked to believe that you just simply knew her, as if you'd been doing this for centuries in another life. You simply believe it's part of your job to know the workings of the human body even better than the soul that owns it._

_Her skin is hot and her face is flushed and her eyes never leave yours. Not for one second. Nor do yours. It didn't take you long to understand that she needs this, this contact, this commitment, something she hasn't had with anyone before. Her other men wanted a quick shag, a bit of fun, even before that, with her Mother dead and her Father leaving. It's completely up to you now, to make her feel amazing, and wanted and content._

_Sometimes it's such a daunting task that it feels like the weight of the world on your shoulders. _

_Her fingers find your hair and her nails dig into your scalp as you pull her vertical, into your arms and she gives an audible sigh as she pushes against you._

_Everything about her tonight, the noises, the way she moves, the way she looks, smells, feels, turns you on and by the time you've finally had enough of her, she looks about ready to pass out. You let her go and she falls back into the pillows before you crawl on top of her, hands skimming over her waist, and kiss her neck. She cups your face and pulls you up to her, forehead against your own, and she laughs. You laugh with her._

* * *

"_Yes. I remember."_

From her wistful stare through the window behind you, you can tell she remembers too. She doesn't say any more. Perhaps there is nothing more to say, but you don't for one minute think that what she _did _say was irrelevant. It was something you hadn't thought about before. The love that had gone into the making of this tiny person in front of you. Thank god you forgot that tartar sauce.

She sits up now and yawns, rubbing her eyes and fetching her car keys from her handbag. She looks tired. Too tired to drive.

"_Do you want a lift?"_

"_It's fine, I'll get a coffee."_

"_That won't get you very far…no wheels."_


	7. Thick as thieves

**Congrats! You've made it to the final part of Affinity! Still a wee while to go, but I've been holding off putting this chapter up to prolong this story as long as I can! Sorry, I have a bit of an attachment to it!**_  
_

**As always, thank you all for the support with this and all of the installments before it. I hope I do you all proud with the next one!**

**The next part is very explosive, so I hope you'll all pop in and have a read! I'll read through and start putting it up as soon as I can!**

* * *

_Af-fin-i-ty. noun._

_ 3. inherent likeness or agreement; close resemblance or connection._

_4. Biology. The phylogenetic relationship between two organisms or groups of organisms resulting in a resemblance in general plan or structure._

* * *

It's time.

Finally.

Today is the start of the rest of your lives. _His_ life.

You know that it's her blood in him that has kept him fighting; her stubbornness, purity, bravery. It is his _middle_ name that has finally led him to victory.

_Alexander._

The ward is packed today, the place is brimming with toys and balloons and rattles and bags.

All for this one little boy.

It's a bittersweet occasion. As the nurses cry for the child they have grown to love, while his mother beams from ear to ear; with happiness you suddenly realise that you haven't seen in a long time.

From somewhere, amongst the pandemonium, Kit is placed in your arms and you move away from the people, protecting him, before you can be swamped again.

You meander towards the window for some peace and quiet and for a few moments you take in the view before looking down.

He is looking straight at you.

He is still very small. Smaller than he should be, but other than that he is a fully functioning little boy. There will always be things he can't do, with a heart condition, but somehow you know that won't stop him trying.

His eyes are brown now, big and brown and he's looking straight at you and as you look back, you see intelligence beyond possibility. It is almost as if he could have a full blown conversation with you right there and then.

You decide to start it.

"_Ready to go home? There's so much out there that you haven't seen yet."_

Cradling him in one arm, you brush your other fingers with his and he grabs you, holding on tightly.

"_That's your world out there. Always remember that."_

You could quite happily stand there and watch him forever. Soon enough he'll be taken from you by someone else in the long line of people waiting to fuss over him. They are now with Nikki, handing over presents, asking all the right questions, chatting and smiling, sharing in the joy and relief with this new mother.

But you can't help but wonder where his _father_ fits into this.

You remain by the window, facing away from the crowded ward. Buying you more time with him. You can't help but be mesmerised. It is a feeling you remember well, a feeling you never thought you'd feel again after holding your own, perfect, tiny daughter in your arms for the first time. His skin is perfect and his eyes are unbelievable.

He is without a doubt the image of his mother.

Apart from the hilarious tuft of thick, dark hair sticking up from his scalp of course.

You already feel like you've connected, bonded with him. When you visited - during those solemn, _heavy _months when no one really knew what his fate would be - you'd often find him wide awake looking back at you, just as he is now.

He seems to understand you, you know it's ridiculous, because he can't even speak yet, but it's like the two of you don't need to. In a mere 3 months you have grown inexplicably attached to this child. This child, who is not yours, nor is he even remotely related to you.

But you see his parents in him.

Two of the people you hold most dearly on this earth.

From the moment they met, you had felt the magic. His Mother had at first aggravated you, before you had realised she really was something special. In those early days you had hoped that perhaps they would see what you saw between them.

_Hope._

_Fate._

_Love._

That is what the three of them represent to you now. Those three elements.

None of which can be scientifically proven. In fact they have no bearing in science whatsoever.

When Theresa and Cassie were taken from you, you turned to science. You had used it as a pillar, to prop you up, to hide behind. To help you understand life, you believed only in things you could trust, analyse, _understand._

But only with this new life. With the introduction of Kit Alexander Cunningham into your life have you learned this lesson:

Life is not there to be understood.

Harry and Nikki; you had brushed off their meeting, not as fate, but of Nicola Alexander simply having nowhere else to brush her teeth.

It is Kit who has taught you to believe in magic. To you, that is what _he_ is. Because when you look at him, you feel like your world has a new axis, like you have been waiting for him your whole life, like he has always been there, somewhere. His eyes are too bright to be that of an infant. He jeopardises everything you ever thought you knew, he has effortlessly found his way into your life and suddenly, the dynamics have shifted irreparably.

This is what assures you he will have his Mother's personality.

And in turn, this tells you, the two of you are going to be as thick as thieves.

* * *

**Those of you who like the idea of exploring the Leo and Nikki friendship, I thought about it and decided to go a step further and do a bit on Leo and his relationship with Nikki's _child_, I just thought it would be interesting to explore! I hope all you Leo fans enjoyed it, this one was for you!**


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